I Always Come When You Call
by loves-misha-collins-and-bacon
Summary: Dean and Cas still have the motel room to themselves. Destiel PWP. Immediate sequel to "Adrenaline", but can be read alone.
1. Wake Up Call

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Rated: M

Warning: just some PWP slashy smutty stuff! I would call this a top!Cas fic, even though he—well, you'll find out ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and what-not… if I did, I would've made Destiel canon a long time ago

Reviews are much loved and appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

He blinked his eyes open slowly, repeatedly. His world returned to him as he lazily observed his surroundings: the steady pulsations of a heart against his ear; a soft comforter draped over his naked back; arms encircling him into a contented embrace. Near the door, a hasty pile of clothing was upon a dark and stained carpet. Confusion cleared from his mind as he put the pieces together: Castiel mojo-ed the two of them into bed…

The memory of what had transpired just a couple of hours ago resurfaced. A smile spread across his face that mirrored his body: relaxed, warm, _satisfied_.

Dean lifted his head, his jade-green eyes settling on Castiel's face—his striking blue eyes closed, full lips slightly parted in deep sleep. Dean moved his gaze down, the rise and fall of Castiel's bare chest making his blood pump faster… His eyes trailed further; the sight of Castiel's hipbones—hipbones he imagined tracing with his tongue, caressing with calloused fingers—peeking out from the navy-blue blanket. Dean reflexively licked his lips, suddenly feeling like a kid on Christmas morning—the single thought to _just unwrap his present_ reeling in his mind.

He decided to give Castiel the best kind of wake-up call.

Dean carefully sat up; trying his best not to jostle the mattress—placing a kiss on one of Castiel's jutting hipbones before delicately peeling away the covers. For a moment, he just stared—taking in the sight of Castiel's exposed body: all of that otherworldly sinew and strength lurking beneath light skin…

When looking was no longer enough, he touched.

He grazed his hand down Castiel's length in light strokes—Castiel gave a small gasp in encouragement, still asleep as he jerked his hips upward. Dean watched as a smile touched his lover's lips, listened as Castiel breathily uttered his name between moans.

Dean grasped Castiel gingerly and licked him in a long stripe: Castiel immediately sat up—his eyes shot open. His gaze was unfocused from confusion, bright with adrenaline. Dean could see his eyes rapidly dilate with arousal—sapphire yielding to black.

"Dean, what—" Dean gave Castiel a sweet and languid kiss, silencing him.

"_Shh_, Cas… just relax," he whispered soothingly, caressing Castiel's chest before gently pushing it towards the bed—coaxing him to lie down, "This is all for you; this is just for you."

"Dean, I—_oh_…" Castiel moaned wantonly, as Dean wrapped his lips around his cock. Dean swallowed around him—making it tight, hot, wet. Dean felt Castiel throb under his swirling tongue; felt the rushing blood under his gripping hand. His taste buds were coated with the salt of Castiel's skin, the slight bitter taste of his essence.

Castiel was repeating his name almost desperately, tangling and clenching his hands in the sheets. His face starting to sheen with perspiration, his stubbled cheeks flushed red.

Dean engulfed his cock—all twisting licks and stroking tongue. Castiel bucked further into his mouth, instinctively seeking more sensation, more heat, _more_. Dean felt his own cock twitch with need, become fully erect.

He sucked Castiel relentlessly, fixing his eyes on the Angel's face—watching his self-control begin to spiral downward.

The moans escaping Castiel's mouth were positively lewd; the beads of sweat on his flesh glistening from the faint glow of the lamplight. Dean began humming around his erection—the vibrating sensations making Castiel's entire body shiver.

Dean basked in the sounds coming from Castiel—the gravelly groans, the short gasps, the unrestrained moans—thrilled by the fact that he could reduce this fearsome warrior to a quivering mess of desire and need.

He pulled away for a moment, giving Castiel's hipbones the attention they deserved: Dean ran his fingers over them, kissed them with his saliva-slickened lips. He scraped his teeth on them savagely, _biting_; marring and marking the pale skin. Castiel reflexively arched his back in startled pleasure, letting out a strangled gasp.

Dean returned his mouth between Castiel's hips, lavishing his cock with titillating flicks of his tongue: Each tantalizing stroke bringing Castiel closer to the edge—his breaths more labored, his head tossing from side to side on a pillow now stained with sweat.

His hips were jolting and writhing frantically. "Dean!" Castiel's eyes were wide, his voice tinged with anticipation. Dean saw him quickly run his tongue along his bottom lip: "Dean, I'm gonna…"

He smiled around Castiel in understanding: He hummed in response, hollowing his cheeks—the sound of Castiel's ragged cry hitting his ears, his taste filling the back of his throat. He slid his mouth off of Castiel in a languid motion, swallowing the warm and bitter ropes of his cum.

Castiel's eyes were half-lidded, blown from satisfaction.

Dean characteristically licked his lips and grinned—crawling closer towards Castiel. He leaned down, bringing Castiel into a slow and sensual kiss: Castiel ardently reciprocated, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck—memorizing every inch of Dean's mouth with his tongue, inside and out.

Dean teasingly stroked his hands along Castiel's arms, stopping when they reached his shoulder blades. He gripped Castiel's flesh then, almost digging his fingers into the heated skin as he moved his body backwards. Castiel followed, never taking his mouth off of Dean's: they were both sitting up now, Dean straddling Castiel's lap—naked chest rubbing against naked chest; hands sweeping each other's back as passionate kisses were fervently exchanged.

Dean jerked his hips forward, his erection touching Castiel's stomach. He groaned brazenly, the friction sending jolts of pleasure and warmth throughout his limbs—his vision filled with fireworks as he repeated the motion. He felt Castiel's lips lift into a smirk against his own; felt him brutally scratch lines across his back.

Their eyes met; sapphire to jade—Dean's already fully dilated with lust. Castiel's gaze held a mischievous glint; held a promise of the wicked things to come.

Dean knew he would not be left wanting…


	2. Phone, Sex

Before Dean knew what was happening, he was being flipped over—his back bounced to the mattress, his head hitting the sweat-dampened pillow. He was in the same position he'd placed Castiel earlier; seeing nothing except those sapphire eyes glowing with lascivious intent.

Castiel was looming over him, his knees anchored on either side of his torso. Primal kisses against his neck; teeth sweeping over his collarbone; lips dragging down his front—making the muscles in Dean's stomach quiver and ache in anticipation. Castiel paused, his mouth hovering over his thighs.

Air escaped Castiel's lips, a cool breeze ghosting across Dean's sensitive flesh. He couldn't stop his hips from jerking; couldn't keep his eyes open as he moaned in response to the sensation. The room suddenly felt too small, too hot as Dean's world dissolved around him.

Castiel kneeled between his thighs, licked his entire length—Dean's skin blazing with need; his heart beating erratically. He bucked further into Castiel's mouth—wanting more warmth, more pleasure, _more_, more—

The sound of his ringtone jolted him back to reality. Castiel leaned back, resting against the heels of his feet; Dean hastily reached over and picked up his cell phone from the nightstand.

"Sam?" Dean answered, immediately cringing at how breathy and hoarse he had sounded. He settled his back against the wooden headboard, hoping to _God_ that this call would be quick.

"Hey… Dean?" Sam responded—Dean could envision his brother's brows knitted in confusion; could hear the tint of amusement in his voice: "I, uh, just wanted to let you know that I might be coming back a little later than I thought… Actually, uh, don't wait up for me at all."

Noises in the background reached Dean's ear—a woman's laughter, the murmur of other conversations, pint glasses placed on wooden tables, the faint sound of music travelling through the air…

"Believe me, I _won't!_" The last word came out as a startled gasp—the unexpected feeling of his cock being enveloped in Castiel's hot, wet mouth reducing his breath to short pants. His eyes clenched shut in ecstasy, his head falling against the pine.

"You feeling alright, Dean?" Sam asked, his voice tinged with concern: If this moment wasn't so warm and pleasurable and frustrating and embarrassing-as-fuck, Dean probably would've found this kind of situation hilarious.

"Yeah, I'm fine," sounding like he'd just run a marathon, all out of breath. He took the phone away from his mouth, a moan escaping into the crook of his arm. That swirling thing Castiel was doing with his tongue—that just wasn't fair. His hips thrusting up uncontrollably, he practically whimpered, "Oh, _fuck_!"

He directed his eyes to Castiel's—sapphires just _blazing_ with wickedness; Castiel swallowed around him, making it impossibly, _perfectly_, maddeningly tight. Dean bit his lip in an attempt to stifle a groan; slamming a hand onto the nightstand and making the lamp come crashing to the floor.

_Fuck._

"Dean!?" Sam's voice was laced with panic. Dean could hear the screech of a chair's legs against the bar floor—Sam quickly standing up, adrenaline threatening to course through his body.

"It's fine, Sammy. It's just the TV," sounding nervous and strained; Dean gave an awkward laugh, running his fingers over his hair—strands saturated with sweat. He couldn't believe this conversation was lasting this long; couldn't believe he still had the ability to form coherent words.

"Okay…" Sam replied dubiously, "I'll, uh, see you later, I guess." Castiel was positively coating his cock with saliva, pumping it through his fist. Dean just let out a sharp breath before hitting the glowing red button on the phone—instantly throwing it to the side; it landed on the navy-blue comforter, pushed off of the bed in a long forgotten pile.

"Cas, what the fuck?" The response he was given was a flick of a tongue, an unapologetic smirk. Dean never expected such a dissonance of emotions to surface within him: hunger, arousal, frustration, _fury_.

Dean didn't know whether to punch Castiel in the face or beg him for more.

Castiel saved him the trouble of making that decision; giving Dean a lustful gaze before crawling up his body—his fingers scratching and caressing his pectorals before moving one hand to Dean's shoulder, the other to grasp his cock.

Castiel lowered himself onto Dean in a single, excruciatingly slow movement that had them both shuddering and moaning with pleasure—Dean's anger completely forgotten. One body mirrored the other's: heads falling back, air escaping lungs in quick, deep pants, eyes closed in bliss. Dean's hands were parallel to his hips: Castiel was straddling, _riding_, him—gripping both of his shoulders brutally, like it was the only thing keeping him anchored.

Dean took in the sight before him: sultry bedroom eyes darkened with arousal; disheveled hair, deep brown and damp from sweat; full lips parted and slick with spit. Dean captured his mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing Castiel's wanton groans. The heat surrounding Dean's cock was intoxicating—his entire body warm and quivering like a live-wire; his nerve endings sizzling under his skin.

Castiel built up a rhythm—rising, falling, rising, falling—every downward motion being met with a thrust of Dean's hips; hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves and making him cry out in rapture. Their flesh was covered in rivulets of perspiration; Castiel was undulating over him. Every time Castiel touched the brand on his shoulder, _his mark_, Dean's heart beat a little faster—his vision became hazier, his mind delirious with his approaching orgasm.

Dean's muscles were tensing—his breath hitched in anticipation, nearing the point of no return.

Dean glanced up to Castiel's face—his expression contorting with pleasure—as he felt the Angel's most intimate muscles contract around his cock. Castiel cried out his name, his body jolting above him; warm cum spurting onto Dean's lower torso.

The sensations surrounding him, the sight of Castiel utterly losing control- of attaining mind-blowing satisfaction, coming undone—brought Dean over the edge. Waves of liquid fire crashed over him; his eyes seeing nothing but a bright light—Castiel's warm body quivered around him as he rode out his orgasm.

Castiel collapsed against Dean, his head nuzzled into his neck—breaths coming out slow and heavy. Their chests were pressed together, feeling the other's rapid heartbeat; their bodies totally relaxed, completely boneless. Castiel placed a tender kiss where neck met shoulder, sighing with bliss. Dean draped his hands over Castiel's back, lightly stroking with calloused fingers.

"Hey, Cas?" his voice faint, raspy. Castiel's heartbeat was slowing, calming down.

"What?" the word spoken against Dean's neck, breath ticking his skin.

He grinned almost devilishly, "You're not getting off that easy…"

Dean could've sworn that Castiel's pulse stopped for a moment—the atmosphere instantly still, hot: then Castiel smiled against his shoulder, the beat of his heart quickening with the knowledge of what was to come…


End file.
